


I might hold a son of my own blood in my arms.

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baby Robb, Daddy Jon, F/M, Post-Canon, short oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: He had heard much about the bond a mother has with her child. But nobody had ever truly told him about the love a father has. Not even Ned Stark, who had loved his children fiercely, could have prepared Jon for this sudden rush of love and desperate need to be near this tiny, tiny person.





	I might hold a son of my own blood in my arms.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonsatrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsatrash/gifts).



> A much happier Jonsa baby fic from another anon prompt :)

“You have a son,” Sam declared happily as he emerged from Sansa’s chambers. Jon stared at him for a moment before his friend’s from started to blur.

_A son. I never thought I would have a child at all._

“And Sansa?” he asked, his voice thick and he felt himself swallow as he looked back at Sam. His friend’s smile merely grew, his eyes crinkling as he basked in the joy of the moment.

“Tired, naturally,” he commented. “But otherwise, fine.”

“Can…can I?” Jon asked, already peering through the gap of the door to try and see inside. Sam chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“Of course,” he said, opening the door.

Jon froze in place, eyes wide as Sansa looked up at him. Her skin was still covered in sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead and tangled as it tumbled down her shoulders and she looked absolutely exhausted. But still, so achingly beautiful, he thought.

She beamed at him, adjusting the bundle in her arms as he approached so that he could see his son’s face.

“I had thought…Eddard,” she said softly, her eyes unable to stay on him and dropping down to stare adoringly at their son. “But, now that I see him…”

“Robb,” Jon whispered, his hands clenching nervously before he slowly raised a hand and placed his palm against the curve of his son’s head. “I always wanted my first son to be called Robb.”

His son blinked up at him, frowning slightly as though not quite sure what to make of all the fuss around him. Jon choked, the tears clinging to his lashes as his eyes are held captive by this tiny being.

“Gods, he is perfect,” he whispered.

He remembered when Uncle Benjen had told him that he didn’t know what he would be giving up if he took the black. He remembered saying that he didn’t care about any of that. But, oh how wrong he had been.

To think that once, he hadn’t truly thought about this moment. He had never thought he would have a beautiful and kind wife or a son of his own, a son to name after his brother.

He had truly just been a boy back then.

***

Sansa was sound asleep when he came to their chambers after hours of replying to the letters of congratulations for the birth of the new prince. He had also had to oversee the plans for the feast that would be held in Robb’s name. It wouldn’t be extravagant by any means, the stocks were still low and despite the Night King being defeated, winter was not quite over.

He smiled at her sleeping form as he removed his jerkin, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She mumbled something unintelligible, face snuggling into the pillows and arms squeezing them closer in response.

He sat down gingerly beside her, carefully tugging off his boots and placing them on the floor. And then, a small gurgle grabbed his attention and his eyes cut across the way to the baby basket that Robb is in. His son is shifting under the blanket, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to get attention.

“Now, now,” Jon whispered, pushing himself off the bed and padding over to peer down at the baby. Robb stills, blinking up at him slowly. And then his lip began to wobble, his face scrunching up and then a few sniffles start to break past his lips.

Jon hushed him, reaching down to stoke his cheek. “What is wrong with you, hmm?”

Robb turned away, legs kicking out again and another cry coming out. Jon shushed gently once more as he slid his hands underneath the small body and easily lifting his son up. He shifted him slightly cradling Robb’s head against his elbow, his arm surrounding his son’s entire body protectively.

_I might hold a son of my own blood in my arms._

He had heard much about the bond a mother has with her child. But nobody had ever truly told him about the love a father has. Not even Ned Stark, who had loved his children fiercely, could have prepared Jon for this sudden rush of love and desperate need to be near this tiny, tiny person.

“You’re a handsome lad,” he commented softly. Robb quietened, a single gurgle given in response as he stared up at Jon. “Oh? And modest I see!”

“Leave him be,” Sansa’s sleepy voice cuts through the silence and Jon turned to face her. She pushed herself to sit against the pillows, smiling softly as he continued to bounce Robb in his arms. “I am going to spoil my darling boy for the rest of my days.”

“And your son too?” Jon teased, grinning up at her. Sansa rolled her eyes even as her smile remained in place.

“I suppose I could spare some time for him too,” she replied. Jon smiled, looking down at his son once more.

“Are you coming to bed my love?” Sansa asked after a few more moments of him rocking his boy.

“In a moment,” he promised, watching Robb’s eyes fluttered as though struggling to stay awake. And Jon swore his son was smiling up at him.

He is aware of Sansa’s eyes on him as he slowly placed Robb back into the bassinet. His hand stroked across the small tuft of auburn curls, across the soft cheek. His son reached up, his fingers grasping around Jon’s own, his eyes blinking sleepily up at him before finally drifting shut.

“Will you come to bed now?” Sansa whispered. Jon nodded, reluctantly pulling his finger free. Sansa was smiling at him as he made his way back to the bed.

“You are a wonderful woman,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her so suddenly she squealed and giggled. He pressed a firm kiss to her cheek, his hands stroking across her stomach.

“Jon!” she snickered as his beard tickled her skin. He grinned as she turned and nuzzled against his neck. “You are rather wonderful too.”

He lay down, pulling her with him until she rested against his chest. She hummed, her hand stroking up and down his skin. He sighed contentedly, unable to resist turning and kissing her temple once again.

This was what he had fought for, he thought as sleep started to claim him. He had fought for Sansa to be in his arms, safe and happy. He had fought for a safer world for his son, his precious boy who he had never truly thought he would ever have.

In these moments, he realised that despite the losses and hardships, despite the fact that it would still take months or even years for the Seven Kingdoms to be restored to anything close to what they had been, it had all been worth it.


End file.
